A Dilemma of Self Determination
by smileintears
Summary: In an effort to better international relations, the nations of the world are engaging in some "house cleaning"- beginning with their living actors. A dark piece inspired out of the blue, contains death and attempted rape.
1. The Iron Cross

These are just pieces of a bigger "something" that has been floating around my head for months and proves to be quite the de-stresser. It may also serve as a companion to something I had first posted on DeviantArt. In this "genius idea" of mine (queue the eyeroll),the APH peeps are being replaced by their repective countries, but they won't come quitely. So, it's up to the replacements to take out the trash- they just find ways to have fun while doing it.

I may be steadily posting more and more whenever I get to write it. Writing the dark stuff is new to me, and I hope you all enjoy it.

_**Romano Vargas, Feliciano Vargas, Antonio Fernandez-Carriedo, Ludwig Beilschmidt, Gilbert Beilschmidt, and Lili Zwingli all belong to Hidekaz Himaruya **_

* * *

Despite the constant proclamation of his distaste for his brother's lover, Romano Vargas now owns one of the man's most prized possessions. In sharp contradiction to his previous attitude, he now holds Ludwig Beilschmidt's Iron Cross as a precious reminder of the loss of two of his most important people.

Eventually, Romano came to accept the relationship between his twin brother Feliciano and the "potato bastard." Even so, he continued to make his sarcastic remarks and on occasion feign disdain for the man, only to keep up appearances- in the legacy of their relationship, the role of the annoying in-law was his to fulfill. However he couldn't deny that deep down, he believed that Ludwig was good for his brother, and vice-versa. Beyond a completion, they were an enhancement and a complement to one another, allowing Romano to enjoy a lost independence and focus on his own relationship with a troublesome, elusive, romantic, all-too-European Spaniard.

Antonio Fernandez-Carriedo had an Iberian gallantry and valiance that was a throwback to a lost age, and later proved to be a trait that was ingrained in his character, much to Romano's benefit. Antonio wasn't the only one to show up at the prison with an injury, but his story was one of the most compelling: after losing correspondence with other European heads, including neighboring Portugal, he attempted an escape after whispers were heard around his own offices, and most shockingly, the streets of his own capital. Noticing that the victims were all from the most financially-unstable and disfavored countries within the EU (Hercules had been the first to go) he played up his characteristic ambiguity and devil-may-care attitude until securing a rendezvous with his favorite Italian. They were discovered praying in a chapel in disguise after being witnessed by an aid's relative. The news traveled fast and they were apprehended privately- but not quietly. Antonio suffered as severely as he did trying to protect Romano.

The incarceration was compounded by dank surroundings and both physical and psychological torture. The latter was inflicted less often but in greater severity, leaving them to question which was worse. The latest bout, however, had convinced Romano that a broken bone was nothing compared to the tortured images in his restless brain: his brother and Ludwig were separated from the rest of the group cell, placed within eye-shot everyone and brutally murdered after Ludwig refused to give in to the ultimatum of shooting Feliciano or saving face as a German national. This was only three days ago. They were now martyrs to some of the younger prisoners, but it was a deathly blow to their collective confidence. The fact that there was brain matter still smeared across the stone outside of the cell didn't help.

Antonio confessed his guilt that he couldn't save Romano for witnessing the scene. But Romano reassured him that even if he had managed to keep his eyes covered, it would not change the fact that his brother was gone and was now strung-up outside like the infamous figure from his history. He now spent his days more depressed and paranoid than before. He both treasured and detested every interaction with the other prisoners, feeling the pangs of his twin's loss and the memory of how powerless he was to stop it.

So when the limping form of a once-proud nation approached him with new wounds and new treasure, he could only be annoyed and assume the worst.

Gilbert Beilschmidt was the only person who could have come close to understanding his pain and shared in his anger. His face had long been absent shortly after the murder- it would seem that the Germanic nations were the prime targets of the guards off-the-record cruelty, quite possibly because of their perseverance, and most recently, their resolve and sense of loyalty.

"Pssst…. Romano…c'mere" Gilbert breathed, wincing against what was quite possibly cracked ribs. He was assisted by Lili Zwingli- she had become attached to him under the most unlikely of situations. Gilbert reached into his pocket and pulled out the lost medal, still strung around the grimy cord which had once secured the object around Feliciano's neck.

Romano just stared at the relic. He was surprised and a bit angry- that cross was given to his brother by the man he loved, what was it doing in the hands of his notorious relative? He opened his mouth, prepared to unleash every hidden grievance at the gesture, but Gilbert held up a bandaged hand to silence him. "Allow me to explain…"


	2. Headaches and Heroics

Another piece of my strange imaginings. It may seem _non-sequitur_at this point, but if/when the next piece comes around, I can assure you it will at least make some sense.

**Gilbert Beilschmidt, Vash and Lili Zwingli all belong to Hidekaz Himaruya **

* * *

This was not the first time the Beilschmidt brothers had been subjected to cruelty. Gilbert, they mistakenly assumed, was an easy target, having long been without any political grounding. They assumed he was weak, and only by freak lack of attention had survived this long. They obviously had not done their research.

Gilbert himself found his incarceration as much a mystery as anyone else- perhaps it was his continued work as a private councilor to the other nations that had made him a target. Regardless, he was now sharing in the suffering (just like the good ol' days), and the most recent testament to this reality came in the form of him being lead into a separate secured room at the break of dawn. After being bound and stowed away, he was not bothered with again until near evening. He thought he had been spontaneously put into solitary and even began to see his punishment as a blessing, until he heard voices coming closer to the door:

_"He still in there? I thought that we were going to get the 'other guy'…"_

A whimper followed.

_"Nah, he's out good 'n cold. Besides, that's a bit too messed up for my tastes."_

_"What, bring up bad memories?"_

_"…Fuck you."_

At the end of the exchange the door was opened: "Well, well sir- have we got a treat for you." The guard stepped aside. Sandwiched between the two was a familiar shape- it was quivering, head bowed, but the indigo ribbon in the hair had made it unmistakable.

"…Lili…" he breathed.

"Ah, so you two know each other," the guard threw the two the ground. The sound of her knees against pavement made an awful thud- he then noticed that her hands had been bound. The rest of her body soon followed and there she lay, sobs muffled, unwilling to straighten herself. The poor girl- even her sweet brother Vash wouldn't be able to help her now.

"Now is that any way to behave?" the second guard reached over and grabbed her by the scalp. Yanking her head away, her tear streaked face was unmistakable in the dim light, her eyes were puffy reddened, but she managed a snarl and looked at the assailant with pure hatred.

"That's it," he turned her to face Gilbert, who was already suspicious of their intentions. "Now be nice to the man, you're going to be his entertainment his evening." Lili's eyes met Gilbert's and her breath caught. He shook his head just enough for her to notice. Though it was intended to be a reassurance, it only made her breath quicken and she squeezed her eyes shut, forcing what was left of her tears to fall.

He couldn't take his gaze off the broken girl. There had to be a way, any way to disrupt the guard's plans for the evening- if he was going to become acquainted with the pretty little Liechtenstein, it would not be by these means. His head continued to wag.

"What's the matter?" the guard spat.

He dropped his head and wagged more ferociously.

"We thought we all deserved a little treat- especially you, bein' caught all up in this whole mess, and its Friday…" the guard brandished his rifle. "We've got all weekend to make this happen."

"No." Gilbert retorted.

"…what did you say?"

"I believe that you have mistaken me," He began. "My kingdom was noted for its might in strategy; in warfare more than diplomacy; but we were led by remarkable men. They were men," his eyes gleamed with a mischievous will. "But not men so controlled by their desires that they would have to stoop so low to satisfy their 'humanity.' I'm sorry; gentlemen, but I do not require your assistance in such matters."

"Why you-" he threw Lili to the ground. Gilbert immediately stood up, but a cold barrel against his neck forced him down.

"You seem just as eager to earn the right," he said. "Let's just help things along, get straight to the sweet part." Lili lifted herself up at those words, making eye contact with Gilbert once more. Her eyes were pleading. He did feel a tad insulted, but then what reason did Lili have to trust him? She'd probably only been told the worst by her brother- although she was her own person, even outside the diplomatic arena his opinion still meant much to her. Still, if there was ever a time to stick it to Vash Zwingli and prove him a paranoid fool, it was now. His eyes narrowed:

"No."

The crack of a gun barrel against his skull was the response to his defiance.

"This'll be a lot harder to enjoy with a headache, son."

Gilbert blinked and squinted in an attempt to readjust his vision. He coughed, painfully. His head was throbbing. The last thing he wanted to do was look up into the officer's illuminated face- so instead he looked at Lili's.

She was nothing short of terrified. He returned his gaze upward. "Fuck you."

The barrel and butt came down repeatedly on all parts of his body, never leaving his head and neck alone for more than a blow. The only other sound was an ear shattering scream that enhanced the pain building in his skull. He began spewing curses in German. The screams continued, and Gilbert saw a flurry of feet at his eye level. He feared the worst:

"…more for the rest of us…" was all he could make out before turning on his back and throwing his foot into his assailants' crotch. He recognized the sound of the goon falling to his knees, and what followed was a blur of pain and exchange of blows where Gilbert was literally beating someone with his hands tied behind his back as he threw himself between Lili and the advancing guard.

Of course, this one had a rifle as well, and by the time he had a chance to bring it down on Gilbert's crown, he was far from "in the mood." As he collapsed he saw Lili being led away; her shrieks growing softer. Gilbert was either unable or unwilling to comprehend her dialect in his current state. He swallowed- it tasted of blood. To his relief, the offending light in his field of vision began to grow softer…

When he awoke he felt a firm cushioning against the back of his aching neck. Given his current state, he was more than contented to rest in the lull between consciousness and faint. A cold trickling on his brow pulled him further from a comfortable black-and-unaware, drawing more attention to the throbbing in his skull. He felt a liquid presence leak between his lips and immediately sputtered, unwilling to find out just what the taste was. His sputter led to a cough, and the cough led to greater pain and a whispered "…schießa."

What he hadn't expected was his curse in pain to be answered with a gentle hand to steady his head. "Shhh…" a voice spoke to him. "Be quiet, the last thing you need to do is talk right now."

It was feminine. That gave him some comfort, but there was no guarantee that it didn't belong to one of the saner, new state-heads, namely one of the Scandinavians. In an act of defense, he tried to conjure up what little charm that he had left: "May I at least say 'thank you'? I didn't expect to receive medical attention so soon…"

"No, it should be me thanking you… "

Against his body's desires, he opened his eyes. There was light enough to sting, but also enough to confirm the identity of his caregiver: "Lili?"

He was staring directly up at her face, her features shadowed by her hair. It had been cruelly chopped with a soldier's shears upon her entry (according to Vash, she had been growing it out once again to better indicate her femininity). Gilbert treasured the sight of her now, thinking that her ragged hair which she saw as an embarrassment now better served as a halo. As she continued to clean his wounds, while he rested against her thighs, he thought that there was no greater indicator to her femininity than now.

"Yes, yes, it's me; now hush…" she placed the cloth back out of Gilbert's eyesight. "I have to finish patching you up." She held her hands above his eyes and pulled, unraveling an obviously recycled bandage in front to his face. She laid the cloth on his chest and reached for his worst-affected arm.

"Wait, wait, wait…" Gilbert rolled away from her lap and tried to support himself. That proved to be a mistake- He flopped to the ground on his tired side. Lili shook her head and reached under his arms to help him sit. She was confused when she heard what she believed was a giggle as she pulled him up.

Gilbert immediately spoke up. "You didn't hear that."

Lili gave a slow blink. "Right…" She stood on her knees to better brace the man's back. "Can you sit up?"

As Gilbert found himself lying against her chest, he was tempted to stay there. That suggestion stayed in his mind until he realized that her fingers were still firmly planted within reach of his best kept secret. "Just… just let me go…I'm fine," he winced as he placed his palms against the damp ground.

Lili was not convinced. "What if I just-"

"Just… take your hands a way."

Lili carefully removed herself as gilbert managed to slump over and take the pressure off his limbs. Luckily, the guards had made less sport of his lower body. His breathing began to quicken.

Lili placed a hand on his back. "Relax," she said. "And lift your arm…"

* * *

Lili spent every spare moment afterwards nursing Gilbert back to health, or passing time with him anyway that she could. Lili was more than the sheltered maiden he had assumed. That's not to say that she wasn't delicate, but she had depth. And it was a depth that surpassed Gilbert's expectations- she had knowledge, passions, imagination, opinions, but most overwhelmingly a naïveté that had survived even her current situation. Gilbert couldn't deny that her company was refreshing, and something to look forward to.

This was especially true for him after the execution. Lili had become one of the few persons he would allow near him. Perhaps it was in her quiet nature, or perhaps she had simply sensed that it was not the time for words- regardless she had kept nearly all comments to herself, aside from the generic sentiments that were currently being thrown around by everyone. When she had first approached him, he was crouched beside the ratty collection of rags he called a bed, alone. His wounds were mostly healed, but despite the progress of his body, he was broken in spirit, more defeated than ever. Softly she called to him, careful not to sound too sweet or too demanding. Instead, from what he could remember, her voice was curious, concerned. It never rose, even as she moved to sit beside of him.

He gave her a look, acknowledging her presence, but just as easily turned away. She spoke his name again, and he responded with another glance. This time, however, he made eye contact.

He saw her eyes, and he was undone.

She spoke his name again. All he could do was to swallow. She sat beside him and tentatively, began gently running her fingers over the bandage still somehow clinging onto his arm. He watched captivated as her fingers continued their journey down each fold, onto his flexed arm and carefully tracing his bruises, being sure not to focus on them for too long. Eventually, they made their way to his hand, her dainty fingers coming between his by way of the valleys of his knuckles. She curled her hand as best she could around his in a tender touch.

Gilbert's mouth opened of its own accord: "… My head hurts."

Lili leaned back and Gilbert placed his head in her lap without hesitation. It had briefly crossed his mind in all his busy thoughts that this was an almost all too familiar action on both of their parts. His thoughts were silenced when he felt her hand running through his hair. He pressed his face harder against her thighs in hopes that a finer surface and a greater pressure would convince his mind for- -if only for a moment- to cease. He had decided that now was a time to let all thoughts go.

He tried to will his mind to be calm; but the images, noises the copious mental clutter wouldn't even allow him to remember the definition of the word "peace." Gilbert was caught in mental agony, a place where the innermost workings of his mind were more deafening than even the fields of battle. He began to do something he hadn't done for as long as he could remember: he began to pray, pray to some sort of divine intervention to calm this noise.

"What is it like?"

And with a sentence his busy mind was interrupted. He was paused long enough to ask: "What did you say?"

"What is it like?" She asked again. Her hand stayed, massaging his scalp. But she looked straight ahead, past even the wall, it seemed.

"What is what like?" Gilbert smacked his lips and rolled his eyes.

"You know what I mean. " Lili said. Her tone for once began to sound impatient. "What is it like to lose a brother?"

Gilbert felt a fresh chill creep under his skin and heaviness set on him. His heart sank for the second time. Against the tightening in his throat, he spoke: "Now, why would you ever-"

"I want to know," Lili paused and he felt her stomach press against his head in a breath. He looked up at her. Her stare was so concentrated he thought the opposite wall might cave in. But he wanted to hear why; why did sweet "Lili of Liechtenstein" (as he had dubbed her) want to know this great burden?

Her hand moved from his head to his shoulder. Gilbert's gaze never wavered. Her eyes met his, and she broke her silence: "I want to know… in the event that I may have to suffer this too."

Gilbert let out a painful sigh and pushed himself off from his favorite pillow. He set up painfully and continued to ignore the closing of his throat. "Lili, I cannot possibly…"

"Please, I'll be a silent as I always was-"

"It's not as simple as you're making it out to be-"Even in this dim light he could see her tears collecting. "I cannot communicate this exact pain; in fact the only one who could even come close is Romano,"

"And he is reluctant with everyone, even Antonio!"

Gilbert's head began to hurt again. Unless he was to slit Vash's throat himself there was no way that she would possibly ever know what she desired: "I cannot teach you what you want know Lili, I would have to give you my pain, and the most I could would be to talk—"

"Then talk with me."

"…what?"

"Talk with me Gilbert," Lili's fingers began to flex as she debated whether or not grab Gilbert's shirt and bring him forward. "Talk with me, morning, noon and night, anytime—if I learn anything that's only an added benefit, but most of all I want you to talk." This was where her tears began to fall. "Please, do not suffer alone…"

The throbbing in Gilbert's head steadied. A lost boldness returned and he reached for her chin. "Lili," He gave a strange smile. "You owe me nothing."

Lili's brow angled and her tears ceased. Shaking her head, she backed away from Gilbert's touch. "I know." Her tone was firm. "And you owe me nothing. But this is not a case of debt, Gilbert." Her stare added six inches at least to her height. "But I want to know. I want you to share with me. I want…" Instantly her lips snapped shut and her eyelids fluttered: she had come to realize exactly what it was she wanted. Gilbert had come to realize it as well.

Immediately, Lili stuttered her apologies, but he would hear none of it. Regardless she tried to excuse herself over and over. It fell to Gilbert to create the silence; an absence of sound and space enjoyed by the both of them.


End file.
